


Putting That Promise to Work

by AetherSeer



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Feelings Realization, Friends to Lovers, M/M, NHL Trade(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-04 15:35:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18346580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AetherSeer/pseuds/AetherSeer
Summary: I wrote this piece for frausorge as part of the Kamikaze Hockey Remix 2019. I hope you enjoy it.





	Putting That Promise to Work

**Author's Note:**

  * For [frausorge](https://archiveofourown.org/users/frausorge/gifts).
  * Inspired by [can't begin to tell you](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8972239) by [frausorge](https://archiveofourown.org/users/frausorge/pseuds/frausorge). 



> I wrote this piece for frausorge as part of the Kamikaze Hockey Remix 2019. I hope you enjoy it.

When the Kings’ public relations people ask Tyler to be filmed playing ‘chel with Cliff, Tyler doesn’t hesitate to say “yes.” Cliff’s fun, and Tyler’s decently good at ‘chel, enough to beat whoever they’re playing at any rate.

He gets more details the closer they get to the filming date, though, and has the tiniest feeling of “this could either be good or bad,” because yeah, it’s been a while since the Trade, but ... it’s not like he could back out now without a really good reason.

And Tyler fucking _misses_ playing hockey with Joner.

 

It’s weird hearing Joner talking over the headset without seeing his face. He’s used to texting Joner weird shit the boys say, or long meandering video calls while Joner’s cooking. But they don’t really call.

Tyler’s also trying really hard to watch his mouth, super aware of the mic sitting on Cliff’s coffee table in front of him, and the unblinking red light of the six cameras pointed at him.

It’s easy to have fun playing, though, and Tyler lets himself fall back into the rhythm of chirping and mocking his opponents. He and Cliff jostle each other and whoop, and Tyler can hear Dillon and Joner doing the same on the other end, wherever they’re playing.

Joner’s sheer disbelief at the disallowed goal is great, though, even without being able to see his face.

The Sharks bury the OT goal to take the game, though, and Joner sounds so cheerful that Tyler can’t bring himself to be upset. “Sometimes you win some, you lose some.”

“Not really, you guys just lose some,” Joner chirps. But Tyler can hear the smile behind his words.

 

Cliff invites Tyler to hang after they wave goodbye to the camera crew, and Tyler accepts the offered beer with a grin. “Good game, yeah?”

“OT loss, eh, okay, sure.”

Tyler shrugs. “At least it’s a loss in ‘chel, not real hockey. We’ll kill ‘em next month.”

Cliff clinks his bottle against Tyler’s in agreement. “Yup.”

 

Tyler’s kicked off his shoes and flopped onto the couch to scroll through Twitter on his laptop when the familiar Skype ringtone chimes with an incoming call.

“Joner!” Tyler says when the call goes through and Joner’s face is filling his screen. “You wanna start the rematch already?”

Joner’s eyes, as always, are ridiculously blue. The computer’s light washes his face out a little bit, but Tyler tilts the screen to compensate. “That was fun today,” he says.

“Yeah,” Tyler says, because he’s not a liar and he _had_ had fun playing against Joner. And Dillon. But mostly Joner. “Don't worry though, we'll get you next time.”

“You can try,” Joner says, but Tyler recognizes the tilt of his head and the hint of tongue as Joner’s half-serious face. “Speaking of next time, though.”

Tyler frowns a little bit, because it was fun, and he’s actually like to see if he can beat Joner one-on-one. But Joner isn’t done talking. “When we come there next month—when I'm there, you want to go out for dinner?”

Tyler’s traitorous heart jumps. It’s so close to what he wants to hear, but he also knows better. If it didn’t happen when they won the Cup, when they won Worlds, it’s not gonna happen. He forces his face into a neutral smile.

“Sure, sounds good,” Tyler says, and it does. Tyler always likes going out with Joner and trying whatever new restaurant Joner’s found. “You want me to round up the boys?”

“No,” Joner says, and okay, Tyler’s confused now. Joner _loves_ the boys. And he’s always bugging Tyler to keep him updated on how everyone’s doing.

Joner leans back away from the camera and scratches the back of his neck. He might have gotten sunburned, and Tyler’s about to chirp him for it when Joner says “I mean just you. And, uh, me.”

Tyler blinks. And stares. And swallows. “Are you fucking with me right now?” he asks quietly. Joner’s never been the type to be _mean_ about Tyler liking men, or Tyler’s ridiculous, obvious crush on him, but … people can change.

Joner shakes his head. He looks serious. “Let me take you out.”

“Fuck you,” Tyler says. “Fuck, Joner, what—why are you doing this now?”

Why _now?_ Why not when they were teammates? Why not when they lived in the same fucking _city,_ when they could see each other every goddamn day, when Tyler hadn’t been pining over Joner’s pretty eyes and soft hair and the soft smile he gets when he’s happy for _two and a half fucking years?_

“I kind of had some things pointed out to me,” Joner admits.

Tyler’s pretty sure his face does something to convey just how _weak_ that excuse sounds, because Joner keeps talking. “I just—I miss you, ok? It was so great today, and I wished I was there with you, and it made me think—” Joner starts to gesture something, but drops his hand back to his lap. “I wish I was with you. I want to be with you.”

“And that never occurred to you when you were, like, actually here?” Tyler’s more than a little upset. And maybe a little in shock. Because he’s been _really_ obvious about pining for Joner. Fucking _Jeff Carter_ had told him to “put the heart-eyes away, Toff.”

“I don't know,” Joner says. "Everything was always so unsettled when I was there. I don't know if I … I couldn't see it, or I wasn't ready, or what. But I know I want this now.”

Now, when they play on different teams, in different cities, and only see each other a handful of times a year. Now, when … “I was gonna get over you,” Tyler admits.

And maybe he’s lying, a little bit, because Joner’s impossible to get over. It’s been more than a year and Tyler still finds himself turning to show his goalie—not his anymore—something a fan had shared on Twitter, or to tell him a joke that Tyler finds hilarious and needs to tell Joner to see his eyes crinkle when he laughs.

“No,” Joner begs. Tyler watches Joner lean in closer, like he wants to crawl through the screen. “No, don't.”

“You—” Tyler takes a deep breath. “You're gonna buy me the biggest steak known to mankind. And then you're gonna take me home and fuck me till I say you can stop. And you're gonna think about that every day between now and then.”

“Tyler,” Martin says. And no, he doesn’t get to sound like _that,_ like Tyler’s just ....

“Holy shit,” Tyler says. “Joner. Martin.”

“I'm sorry I left you hanging for so long,” Joner says in a rush. “I'm gonna work for you, ok? I'm gonna put in the work.”

“ _Yeah,_ you will,” Tyler says.

* * *

 

The restaurant Joner picks is pretty new to L.A., Tyler thinks. At least, he’s never heard of it before, and he only gets a little lost trying to find it.

Joner’s gotten them a table off to the side, though, out of the main traffic area. And when Tyler sits down, he has a great view of the street below them. “This is really nice,” Tyler says appreciatively.

Joner’s eyes crinkle when he smiles, and it’s so much better to see them again in person rather than over the internet or from the opposing end of the ice. “I promised you the biggest steak known to mankind, right?”

Yes, yes he had. Tyler lets Joner order for them, prepared to fully enjoy his steak. His mouth is still full when he pauses and points at Joner with his knife. Joner’s eyes flick down to the blade, and then back up, his head tilting. “You paid up on the first part of that apology,” Tyler says. He chews the last little bite and swallows, leaning forward. “So are you good for the second part?”

Tyler swears Joner’s eyes, normally so bright, go dark. “I plan on putting in the work,” Joner answers.

Well, that’s good enough for Tyler. He toasts Joner with his water glass and turns his attention back to decimating the generously-sized slab of meat on his plate. No sense in wasting good steak now that he’s got Joner’s word.

 

Tyler drives them back to his place after dinner, since Joner’d actually Uber’d to the restaurant. “You gonna miss curfew or anything?” Tyler thinks to ask.

“No,” Joner says, actually half-turning in his seat to look at Tyler. “Coach DeBoer’s pretty understanding about wanting to hang out with former teammates. I just have to be back in time for morning skate tomorrow, and _not_ hungover.”

“Eh, fair,” Tyler decides. That’s pretty reasonable. And Joner didn’t even drink at the restaurant. “He didn’t say anything about not being well-fucked, though, right?”

Joner chokes on air, and Tyler grins at the traffic in front of him. Oh, yeah. Tonight’s gonna be a good night, and Joner’s gonna be hard in his cup remembering Tyler’s ass during the game, for sure.


End file.
